


Loving Mrs. Kessler

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: 2012 Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt christmas cookies, Christmas fic, Cookies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2020-04-05 02:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19039252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: In which the best-laid (Christmas cookie) plans of one Blair Sandburg go awry.





	Loving Mrs. Kessler

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2012 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt of "cookies"

"I love that woman," Jim said as he stepped inside the loft doorway and peeled his jacket off.

Blair winced. He should've known this would happen. But maybe he was wrong; maybe it was okay — it was almost Christmas, and Christmas was the season of miracles, right?

Fortunately, Jim was hanging up his jacket on one of the hooks and had his back to Blair, and Blair had time to hide his wince before Jim turned around. He looked over at Jim from his book-strewn corner of the couch and raised an enquiring eyebrow. "What woman?"

Jim raised an eyebrow of his own, although Blair considered it to be more in the line of an editorial _that's a dumb-ass question_ gesture from Jim than anything denoting genuine inquiry. "Mrs. Kessler, who else?" Jim said. "Your department secretary. You do remember her, I trust."

_Crap._ All hope was gone, but Blair wasn't going to give up without a fight. "Isn't she a little old for you, Jim? One of her grandkids is pregnant."

"Nice try, Machiavelli. Where are they?"

"Where are who?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

"Not a clue."

"I'll just find them myself, then. These senses have to be good for _something."_

Blair narrowed his eyes. "Oh, that's beautiful. Getting you to cooperate with even the simplest sensory test for my research is like pulling teeth, but the minute a few rum balls show up in the loft, you're all about using your senses? Rum balls Mrs. Kessler gave _me,_ I might add?"

Jim seemed less than impressed. "Or, if you prefer, I could just withhold sex until you tell me where you stashed them," he said.

"Jim. If I don't get to get off with you, the corollary is that you don't get to get off with me. I don't think that's a tactic you really want to go with."

The look Jim gave Blair at that was less than friendly. "Fine," he said, and began to walk around the loft, sniffing the air like a cookie-obsessed bloodhound. Under any other circumstances, Blair would've been proud when Jim raised his eyebrows two minutes later and stepped out onto the balcony. "Inside the storage chest?" he said as he came back into the living room, tin of rum balls in hand. "You really were desperate, weren't you?"

Blair scowled. _Plan B._ "Okay. Tell you what, we split fifty-fifty." He pinned Jim with a warning glare. "That means no cheating."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jim said, looking way too self-satisfied. Then he cleared his throat in a disturbingly pointed manner. "So, you want to go downstairs and get the rest of them now?"

Crap, crap, _crap._ "Um, what? Downstairs? What are you talking about, Jim?"

"The tin you hid in the Volvo. We wouldn't want to forget to split those, too. Would we, Honest Abe?"

Blair doubled the glare he'd been aiming at Jim, and Jim's evil smile widened.

"I really love that woman," Jim said.


End file.
